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Advent Joy


Advent is a tender time.

Deep blues and purples

catch me

as I fall into darkness.


Songs of coming home,

and waitful hope and elusive peace.

The glow of the candled wreath

growing brighter each week.


Looking at the lights

framing the house

across the street,

I think of you.


How you would put so many colorful lights

on the back porch that our disabled neighbor

called our house Santa’s shop.

Of course, I gave him plenty of cookies.


Sixteen years

on the 16th.

Your golden death day.

Is that even a thing?


It is a long time.

So much has happened for us.

Me, moved and remarried;

the kids grown with loves of their own.


But I clearly remember that sacred night:

the tree glowing with white light,

classical music playing softly,

being warmed by the fire place.


My hand in yours

as you let go.


I light the pink candle.


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